Sixteen Candles
The last rays of the evening sun shined brightly into the elegant dinning room as Peter Pettigrew lifted up his left sleeve, quite aware of the pairs of eyes locked onto the section of his forearm where the Dark Mark would be –
If it had been the world I lived in.
The skin across his pale flesh was smooth and unblemished, save a tiny mole protruding near the crook of his elbow. I breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back from the nervous man and looking up at the rest of the adults in the room.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, "I just had to make sure."
"It's ok," said Mum quietly, "Listen, why don't we all go sit down and talk about this? It's obviously gotten to you so much that you can't remember anything that's happened… can you?"
I shook my head wearily, allowing her to steer me into a large living room, complete with three large couches and a huge fireplace. I sat down on one, her sitting down in the spot next to me, while Sirius and Dad took another, leaving Remus and Peter to the last one.
"Now… Are you quite sure this is all unfamiliar?" Dad motioned to the many pictures lining the walls – pictures of my family, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, all of us smiling and waving in various settings.
I stared, open mouthed, at them for quite some time before Mum gently touched my arm, bringing me back down to reality. It was amazing; my whole life was laid out on these walls, yet I couldn't remember a thing.
What if my life with the Dursleys was all a dream? What if this was my real life? Why couldn't I remember anything through? Surely this wasn't anything Voldemort would do to try to get rid of me; he'd rather torture me than send me to a place where I was happy and comfortable, surrounded by people I loved.
"Nothing," I shook my head. "It's as life I'm looking at the life of someone who looks exactly like me…"
Dad nodded, "Well, tell us about your dream then. What happened in it? None of the Voldemort stuff, but… Who did you live with? What happened? Who were your friends?"
I took in a deep breath, my mind fishing around for somewhere to begin.
"I lived in a cupboard under a staircase for the first eleven years of my life, save the year I was with you two," I began, my eyes unfocusing as I relived my childhood in my mind. "I lived with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley, my cousin… they were awful, I hated them with every bone in my body. They didn't like me much either, I suppose…"
I went on to tell them all about how Hagrid came to get me, the day I found out I was a wizard, and when I came to Hogwarts, I started to mention my friends.
"Ron Weasley, he was the first person I met on the train. We're best friends, the last thing I can remember is my birthday party over at the Burrow – that's the Weasley's home."
Mum nodded, "Yes, you are friends with Ron. I wouldn't say best friends, perhaps, but friends none the less."
I blinked, surprised a bit by the news Ron and I weren't as good of friends as we were in the world I knew.
"Well, Hermione Granger's another good friend of mine – she and Ron were dating, actually." I smiled at the memory; they bickered constantly, but she and Ron really did care for one another, no matter how stubborn both were.
"Yes, Hermione, of course," Dad smiled this time, "She's your girlfriend in this world, Harry."
If my eyes had opened any wider, my eyeballs would be falling out of their sockets.
"You're joking!" I exclaimed, leaning forward, "How on Earth did that happen?"
Dad shrugged, "No clue, really. You'll have to ask her."
I nodded, regaining composure and leaning back once more, "Well, that's quite a surprise. Are there any other friends I need to know about? If Ron isn't my best friend, who is?"
Sirius took this opportunity to lean forward and grin, his hair falling into his eyes as he locked eyes with me.
"Your best friend? That's a silly question, Harry. Draco Malfoy, of course!"
The last rays of the evening sun shined brightly into the elegant dinning room as Peter Pettigrew lifted up his left sleeve, quite aware of the pairs of eyes locked onto the section of his forearm where the Dark Mark would be –
If it had been the world I lived in.
The skin across his pale flesh was smooth and unblemished, save a tiny mole protruding near the crook of his elbow. I breathed a sigh of relief, stepping back from the nervous man and looking up at the rest of the adults in the room.
"I'm sorry," I sighed, "I just had to make sure."
"It's ok," said Mum quietly, "Listen, why don't we all go sit down and talk about this? It's obviously gotten to you so much that you can't remember anything that's happened… can you?"
I shook my head wearily, allowing her to steer me into a large living room, complete with three large couches and a huge fireplace. I sat down on one, her sitting down in the spot next to me, while Sirius and Dad took another, leaving Remus and Peter to the last one.
"Now… Are you quite sure this is all unfamiliar?" Dad motioned to the many pictures lining the walls – pictures of my family, Sirius, Remus, and Peter, all of us smiling and waving in various settings.
I stared, open mouthed, at them for quite some time before Mum gently touched my arm, bringing me back down to reality. It was amazing; my whole life was laid out on these walls, yet I couldn't remember a thing.
What if my life with the Dursleys was all a dream? What if this was my real life? Why couldn't I remember anything through? Surely this wasn't anything Voldemort would do to try to get rid of me; he'd rather torture me than send me to a place where I was happy and comfortable, surrounded by people I loved.
"Nothing," I shook my head. "It's as life I'm looking at the life of someone who looks exactly like me…"
Dad nodded, "Well, tell us about your dream then. What happened in it? None of the Voldemort stuff, but… Who did you live with? What happened? Who were your friends?"
I took in a deep breath, my mind fishing around for somewhere to begin.
"I lived in a cupboard under a staircase for the first eleven years of my life, save the year I was with you two," I began, my eyes unfocusing as I relived my childhood in my mind. "I lived with Aunt Petunia, Uncle Vernon, and Dudley, my cousin… they were awful, I hated them with every bone in my body. They didn't like me much either, I suppose…"
I went on to tell them all about how Hagrid came to get me, the day I found out I was a wizard, and when I came to Hogwarts, I started to mention my friends.
"Ron Weasley, he was the first person I met on the train. We're best friends, the last thing I can remember is my birthday party over at the Burrow – that's the Weasley's home."
Mum nodded, "Yes, you are friends with Ron. I wouldn't say best friends, perhaps, but friends none the less."
I blinked, surprised a bit by the news Ron and I weren't as good of friends as we were in the world I knew.
"Well, Hermione Granger's another good friend of mine – she and Ron were dating, actually." I smiled at the memory; they bickered constantly, but she and Ron really did care for one another, no matter how stubborn both were.
"Yes, Hermione, of course," Dad smiled this time, "She's your girlfriend in this world, Harry."
If my eyes had opened any wider, my eyeballs would be falling out of their sockets.
"You're joking!" I exclaimed, leaning forward, "How on Earth did that happen?"
Dad shrugged, "No clue, really. You'll have to ask her."
I nodded, regaining composure and leaning back once more, "Well, that's quite a surprise. Are there any other friends I need to know about? If Ron isn't my best friend, who is?"
Sirius took this opportunity to lean forward and grin, his hair falling into his eyes as he locked eyes with me.
"Your best friend? That's a silly question, Harry. Draco Malfoy, of course!"